Wit Is The Fruitful Womb Where Thoughts

I Learned To Look More Upon The Bright Side Of My Condition, And Less Upon The Dark Side, And To Consider What I Enjoyed, Rather Than What I Wanted : And This Gave Me Sometimes Such Secret Comforts, That I Cannot Express Them ; And Which I Take Notice Of Here, To Put Those Discontented People In Mind Of It, Who Cannot Enjoy Comfortably What God Has Given Them, Because They See And Covet Something That He Has Not Given Them. All Our Discontents About What We Want Appeared To Me To Spring From The Want Of Thankfulness For What We Have.

Now, Said I Aloud, My Dear Father's Words Are Come To Pass: God's Justice Has Overtaken Me, And I Have None To Help Or Hear Me: I Rejected The Voice Of Providence.

Friends Are Good,--good, If Well Chosen.

In The Course Of Our Lives, The Evil Which In Itself We Seek Most To Shun, And Which, When We Are Fallen Into, Is The Most Dreadful To Us, Is Oftentimes The Very Means Or Door Of Our Deliverance, By Which Alone We Can Be Raised Again From The Affliction We Are Fallen Into.

Tis Very Strange Men Should Be So Fond Of Being Wickeder Than They Are.